Transparency
by TundrainAfrica
Summary: Although the bank robbery made national news, the young boy who saved the lives of all the people in the bank didn't. First hand witness accounts said the boy was a hero, the media said there was no young hero in the bank and one journalist tries to get to the bottom of it all.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, this is my story for this years Christmas fic exchange. The story is not done actually but I'm planning for it to be just three chapters long. I'm doing my best to finish everything before Christmas so if everything goes as planned, you'll see the ending by Christmas.**

 **The prompt is:**

 **"Alex's thoughts on being a hero - who his heroes are and/or what he thinks it means and/or if he considers himself one (choose one, two, or all three to consider)"**

 **To the person who requested this, I hope it doesn't disappoint.**

Being a journalist was Mike Howell's lifetime dream.

Even back when he was a kid, he had already dreamt of working in media. From a young age, he knew that media was not always transparent. High profile people paid the media to warp stories or not to publish certain ones that might destroy their reputation. As long as someone had money or power, they could pay the media to publish anything as well. He had read enough coffee table books on conspiracy theories and controversies as a kid to know just that.

He wanted to be the one to change media. _The public deserve to know the truth. We're the ones paying taxes, sustaining their lives. We have the right to know what's happening in our country._

He grew up a lot more outspoken about politics and society than most teenagers and of course, being that one kid who asked too many questions and clarified too many facts to be remembered as a pain by many teachers and a tad odd by his fellow classmates. Having written very good and well informed essays for someone his age though, he was able to rise up the ranks of secondary school and sixth form fast and end up in a high profile university with a good journalism course.

A few years later, he was accepted as a writer for the London Herald and his goal was starting to become more concrete. Rise up the ranks of the newspaper company, become editor and chief and manage a newspaper company that will promote transparency for the industry.

That morning, he was too receive his first assignment.

"For now, we'll assign you the One Belt One Road Feature Article. The data is all here in this envelope. You should have it done by tomorrow."

 _So much for a first ever official news article._ Mike couldn't lie, he had expected something better than writing a feature article on a Chinese infrastructure project that the United Kingdom had no interest of even investing in.

"We don't usually assign headlines or delicate situations to the newer journalists. Besides, you wouldn't enjoy being sent to a hostage situation believe me."

Mike looked up to see that his manager was giving him a comforting smile. He returned the smile, quickly shifting from what must have been a look of disappointment. "Did I look like I was disappointed about that? I was thinking of other things." Mike gave his superior a thumbs up and a big smile. "I'll start working on this now."

As he walked back to the desk, he thought of the real reason he was disappointed. He knew from the start that he wouldn't be writing a terrorist article on his first day. Which boss in their right mind would send a rookie to a life threatening situation?

He had expected to be assigned a story that people would actually take the time to read though.

How was he going to implement transparency if no one was going to read what he was writing in the first place?

 **Transparency**

"Let's do something tomorrow"

Mike looked up from statistics he was analyzing on his laptop to see his cousin, sitting on the sofa in front of former had spent the last two hours since he got home, reading up on the Belt and Road Initiative online. The data they had given him to interpret was impossible for him to study since he knew nothing about the plan beyond what one would consider basic knowledge.

"I don't think I'll have time. I have an article to finish by tomorrow."

"But you just started the job."

"Yeah, but I'm going to need the paycheck if I'm gonna stop mooching off of your parents."

"It's nice though having someone around who can help me with Social Studies homework. That reminds me…"

Mike had already turned his attention back to his laptop, ignoring the footsteps of his cousin. A few minutes later, his cousin was back with a pile of readings.

"That Brookland School you go to is one slavedriver. Schools weren't like this back in Essex."

"This is London, not the countryside. Of course we'll have it harder."

Mike stuck out his tongue at his cousin. "You demean the countryside one more time and I'm not going to even look at your readings."

"Come on, I know you're a better cousin than that…"

It happened in less than a second. His cousin had dropped his readings right on Mike's keyboard. The latter swore he heard a crack, he felt the sides of his laptop only to pull out a broken CD drive, a moment later.

"James fucking Hale, you're paying for this laptop."

 **Transparency**

In the end, Mike's resolve to finish the Belt and Road Initiative paper won over his cousin's pleas and Mike found himself in Canary Wharf, the financial district of London. Some banks had open libraries in their buildings and those banks would definitely have sources on the BIR.

He had picked one of the lesser known banks along Canary Wharf. Most others like JP Morgan and Stanley's had too much of a name for security not to be anal about his entering for research.

It was a small bank a little to the edge of Canary Wharf, it could have been considered a part of another border but the small map outside mentioned a small library in the fifth floor.

Security was not very tight. All he had to do was drop his company ID on the visitor's counter and he had full access to sources relating to finance and economics in the past year. When he arrived on the fifth floor through the elevator and saw the adequate collection, he couldn't help but grin and silently thank security for not being too strict.

 **Transparency**

For any company, security was supposed to be tight. That company had made a grave mistake with letting just anyone in. Only a few minutes after Mike arrived on the fifth floor and started his research, a young man went in after him, a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked to be about twenty, he sat on the benches in front of the counters. There were around fifteen customers all in all, a few old men, a few housewives, a few college aged students. one mother with her young daughter, and only three counters so the sight of the young man on the benches was not out of the ordinary.

What caught people's attention was someone who entered a few minutes after the man with the backpack. He was a blond boy who looked to be about fifteen. What was more strange was the fact that he was streaked with mud and was wearing a soccer jersey and shorts and cleats as if he had just played a game of soccer.

 _Why would anyone go to the bank dirty and in a soccer jersey?_

 _What was a fifteen year old boy doing in a bank like this? No one takes finance or economics until sixth form… so he shouldn't be here for research. Maybe he wants to open an account?_

The moment all eyes were on the blond teenager who entered the small bank was a chance for the man with the backpack. He only needed a second to pull out his gun. Eyes were on him less than a second after he pulled it out but by then, the gun was trained at anyone who would try to go near him.

"Bar all the doors, this is a hold up."

 **I'm sure you're wondering how this is related to the prompt. You may have hints with the first chapter already. The prompt will be filled more explicitly in the later chapters. This fic is unbeta-ed so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.**

 **Do review and tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, I still have no idea who gave this prompt. I'm expecting this to be five chapters though. I'll try my best to post everything before christmas or new year. LOL emphasis on try. I have the whole story planned though. It's not beta-ed though so if you're reading, it would help to tell me what I could improve on or if there are any typos.**

 **Enjoy!**

Mike may have been too immersed in his own research that he did not hear the gunshots only a few floors down. Either that, or he was just too high up. Eventually, he found out anyway, his mother had texted him to be careful, to stay where he was and that there was a hold up in canary wharf. Being the curious journalist he was, Mike decided to completely ignore his mother's advice and go to the scene of the crime for himself. What he didn't expect was to arrive at the scene of the crime soon after he exited the elevator.

A man with dirty blond hair and a gold tooth was waiting outside the elevator. He aimed his gun at Mike as soon as the latter entered the lobby. Mike had to bite his lip hard to stop himself from showing anything more than a poker face. He did not expect that at all.

"Next to the blond boy." He growled.

Mike felt something cold and metallic on his side. He didn't have to think twice to know what it was. If it were a knife, he would have had a good chance if he fought back. A gun pressed to one's side was enough reason to surrender for any unarmed citizen. He kept his eyes trained on the blond boy the man in the ski mask had mentioned a while ago. The boy looked to be about fourteen years old, blond hair and brown eyes. The most striking thing about the boy though was the fact that he was covered in mud and was wearing a soccer jersey and cleats. If he wasn't one bullet away from certain death, Mike would have wondered what the boy was doing there.

The blond boy stared back at him with surprisingly serious brown eyes. He looked away a few seconds after and started scanning the room as if looking for a way out. There was no fear or surrender evident in his eyes. On the contrary, he looked like he was deep in thought.

As the man with the gold tooth talked in soft mumbles to his companion who was wearing a black cap, Mike scanned the faces of the group of hostages beside him. They all looked terrified, a mother hugging her child, a few college students huddled together, two old men who were holding their brief cases a tad too tight and the bank tellers standing too straight. Nevertheless, the blond boy still stood out like a sore thumb. While the others looked terrified, the blonde boy narrowed his eyes at the two men congregating to the side as if he was trying to make out what they were saying.

Soon after, the two men herded the hostages into one group like a shepherd to sheep about to be slaughtered. Because he was in the back of the group of hostages, the gun stayed pressed to Mike's side the whole time. Only a few paces in front of him was the blond boy. The man in the black cap had his gun trained on the boy's side, in a similar manner. He could not see the boy's facial expression from behind but the boy's posture seemed much calmer than the others in front of him that Mike found it almost calming to stare at the boy as they were herded to a vault at the back of the bank.

"You will stay here while we negotiate the terms of your release. Anyone tries anything funny and we will make sure you regret it."

The vault door closed behind Mike with a loud slam and he let out a deep sigh.

"What do they want with this bank? We don't have as much as other banks, even if they squeezed us dry, they wouldn't get as much" One of the women from the group said, almost close to tears. She was in a business suit, her name tag said Laura. _A bank teller._ Mike concluded a second later.

"I don't think they picked this bank for its assets. They picked it because of its security. From what I'm seeing, this is far from a simple bank robbery. They took us hostage for more than that."

Mike looked back at the group and just as he had expected, it was the young teen talking and he had the whole group listening, housewives, men and college students. In any normal situation, they probably would not have listened to him, he seemed the most level headed though and the rest of the people in the room were at their most vulnerable.

"Why do you say that? You sound pretty sure of yourself for a fourteen year old in a hostage situation." Mike pressed.

"In an average robbery, they would ask you to take out all your phones and valuables first. This time They didn't bother to take any, which begs the question why." He leaned on the wall behind him and sighed. "I just thought you would want to know this. it gives you more reason to be careful of the two men."

"But why should we listen to you, a teenage boy." One of the older men asked, his voice raised. He walked closer to the blond. His footsteps sounded more like stomps especially with the hard metal floor of the bolt. Mike soon realized that the old would actually hit the boy then and there. Mike walked discreetly and slowly behind the old man, keeping himself ready to intervene if a hustle between the two started.

"I gave you a logical explanation as to why. What else would you need?"

"You're with the two men aren't you? What do you want from us. Is this some sick joke?"

The older man grabbed the front of the boy's shirt, raising his other hand as if ready to punch the blond at any moment.

"This is no time to be fighting." Mike went between the two and lightly pushed the man away from the young boy hoping it was enough for the older man to stop.

"I was just trying to help you. My name is Alex. I was playing soccer in a nearby field. I saw one of the men walking down the street, he was carrying a heavy bag and I just thought I'd follow him."

"How did you know he was carrying a gun in that backpack?"

"I didn't, but it seemed suspicious for someone to hold a heavy backpack and head for a banking district so I followed him and turns out I was right."

Mike narrowed his eyes at Alex. In a way, he understood the sentiments of the man who had fought Alex just a moment ago. It was just too much of a coincidence.

Alex shrugged. "I play a lot of shooter games"

The boy must have sensed the suspicion the rest of the people in the crowd felt and Mike almost felt bad for him. He smiled and put his hand out for Alex to shake.

"I'm Mike Howell by the way, a journalist. I was doing some research in the library in the fifth floor when this happened. I want to trust you but how can we make sure you're not with them?"

Alex put his hands up. "I'm unarmed and I probably would have picked something better to wear if I were going to rob a bank." He commented. Mike could here the stifled laugh at his own remark.

Mike narrowed his eyes at the the boy who had made such a joke at such a time. "To be honest, I can't think of anything better to do in this situation. This is risky but there's still a chance this boy will get us somewhere."

"He's a teenage boy." The older man argued. "Any average teenage boy who was innocently minding his own business wouldn't have ended up in a bank like this. All they know is drugs and schoolwork."

"If you can think of a better idea then let's hear it." Mike argued.

The older man opened his mouth as if to argue and stopped himself at the last minute. "Fine, I'll listen. My name is Howard Tanner. I'm here with my daughter and my granddaughter and I love them more than anything. If it turns out you are an accomplice, I swear to god, I will make sure you don't get out of this alive."

"I won't disappoint you."

Mike looked to the corner of the room to see a mother huddled there hugging her daughter close to her and talking to her soft whispers. Those were probably the two people Howard had been referring to.

Alex looked around at the other people in the room, he made sure to make eye contact with everyone. That was enough signal for Mike to know that they should listen."First things first, we need to know what's happening. They haven't taken our phones, if anyone has cellular data, follow whatever you can. Facebook, Twitter, BBC, CNN. We need to know what the two are planning, if there are any negotiations being made and when help will be" coming."

Howard nodded. "Alright, that we can do."

"Just give me a second, I need to check on something." Alex turned back and went deeper into vault.

"Wait" Mike said as he hurried behind Alex. "What about you? Where are you going?"

"I'll be looking for a way to eavesdrop on the two."

" So deep into the vault? I'm coming with you."

"You probably won't be so useful.I'm checking the vents."

"You know, what you're doing is very suspicious. How would they know you won't ditch or sell us out?" Mike asked

At that moment, Mike heard the sound of a phone vibrating. It took him less than a second to pick out where the sound was coming from. Alex pulled out a phone from his jeans. He clicked on the speaker setting on the phone.

" _Alex, there is a hostage situation in canary wharf. It's pretty near your game. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."_

"Yeah, I'm fine, I might go home late. I'll text you if I can make it home by dinner. I might go out with the team."

" _Alright, don't stay out too late."_

As Alex hang up, he smirked at Mike. "You still think I'm some spy?"

Alex would not have been able to easily pull it off if that were a trick. He had accepted the phone call without reading the caller ID. The person on the phone also sounded genuinely worried. It was either the terrorists were just really good at planting kids in hostage situations or that teenager in front of him was as authentic as the situation itself.

"Well, that was an authentic phone call. Sorry for doubting but a fourteen year old who is pretty lax in a hostage situation is pretty strange."

"Well, let's just say, I'm not an ordinary 14 year old."

Alex turned back and went deeper into the vaults, Mike following close behind.

 **Transparency**

"I told you, you wouldn't fit in the vents." Alex said as he climbed on Mike's soldiers and into the opening close to the ceiling.

"Well, you wouldn't be able to climb in without me." Mike grunted as he pushed Alex up.

"Believe me, I'd find a way. By the way, while I'm inside, check your phone. I want to see what the robbers are negotiating with."

"Alright." Mike said as he opened the cellular data on his phone. He opened the twitter application. He had an account but he barely used it for anything other than following celebrities.

 _Negotiations are underway for the bank hostages._

 _There are still at least 15 hostages trapped in the bank vaults._

 _Workers from upper floors escaped through fire exit._

 _Nothing helpful._ Mike thought to himself as he waited for the latest tweets to load. Although there was cellular data in the vaults, it was at two bars.

"Anything from there?" Mike asked as he mindlessly watched the loading wheel in the twitter app.

No reply.

"Alex?"

 _Did he ditch? He must have found a way out. Was he calling for help?_

So many things were running through Mike's mind. He was panicking. "Alex, if you can hear me, please answer with anything." Mike said again, much louder.

Still no reply.

"We need to hurry."

Mike jumped at the voice and looked back to see Howard holding his cellphone in front of him for Mike to read.

"We are not afraid to kill hostages and we will prove it to you says the hostage taker. We have killed children before." Mike felt his blood freeze as he read the quote out loud. For some reason, it felt more real that way.

"Alex!" Mike almost screamed, the only thing he stopped him from shouting Alex's name at his loudest was the fear of the terrorists hearing him.

Still no reply.

Mike closed his eyes, bit his lips and prayed. _Whether you were a spy the whole time or a boy who just wants to make it home for dinner, I pray you at least grow a conscience._

 _You can'_ _t fucking leave us like this._

 **Sorry again, for the delay in the prompt. I wanted to set the scene first before he answers the question.**

 **Tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_I missed the fic exchange for this July ughhhh. I was being all disappointed with that then I realized fak, I haven't completed my last fic *oops*. So yep, I've been writing this since then. If I can't join the next one, I'd better finish this one. HAHA. Sorry for the delay but yes, I wrote out the rest of the chapters already so I'll be posting the next chapter maybe in a week?_**

 _One minute. Two minutes._

 _1000… 2000… 3000._

Mike counted second after second. He had already counted five minutes. He kept his eyes focused on the metal floor and tried to deepen his focus as he felt his hands shake in anger.

 _Alex couldn't have left them._

"Where's the boy?"

Mike looked back to see Howard, his face pale even under the dim light. He looked as desperate as he sounded.

"They're threatening to kill my granddaughter. We need to get out of here fast"

Mike could only keep quiet. How could he defend someone he didn't even know? The boy seemed trustworthy though and it only made Mike feel more horrible knowing that his instinct could have been wrong about the young boy.

"He escaped didn't he. He sold us to the terrorists!"

"We don't know that yet. He could find us a way out." His voice monotone. At that point, he didn't know what to believe.

"There's a way out."

He heard a faint voice from inside the vent and the clack of weight against metal roused Mike from his trance.

"The vent is way to small for the average adult but I can get your granddaughter out. I heard them talk as I checked out the exit. They're going to kill her if we don't get her out soon."

"Please." The old man said. All conviction of a while ago gone. Mike found it almost funny that he was left speechless and was at the mercy of the young boy he accused of betraying them only a minute ago

A few minutes later, Mike found himself supporting the young girl's feet as Alex pulled her up again.

"What about mommy?"

"Mommy will follow." Howard said, his voice sullen and unsure. "Just follow Alex. He'll bring you somewhere safe."

Mike made eye contact with Alex as the latter helped the young girl balance on all fours inside the vents. "Take care of her."

"I'd die before I let them get her." Alex said.

He was 14, his voice sounded like it was still in the process of cracking yet the characteristic haughtiness most people his age would have making promises like that wasn't there. It felt like he really did mean what he said. "Go!"

Mike walked with Howard back to the front of the room. He pulled out his cellphone and refreshed his Twitter and Facebook accounts.

"Rosalie's on the way out?"

Mike looked up to see that the mother was talking to Howard. Her eyes were red rimmed as if she had been crying and when Howard whispered to her, she fell to her knees, relieved.

He looked back at his phone and he scrolled down his feed, he started to understand.

 _Robbers threaten to detonate bomb if the military goes in by force._

 _Bank robbers threaten to kill youngest hostage._

 _Rosalie Persse, age four, identified as youngest hostage_

 _Negotiations to save young girl fall on deaf ears… if the prime minister does not give in. Rosalie Persse will be killed."_

It was a live broadcast. Mike could feel his heart thudding almost unnaturally as he watched the man with the green ski mask make a scene just outside the bank.

 _"That girl is dead! That girl is dead!"_ He said towards the camera. He aimed the gun at everyone who tried to get nearer and hurried inside.

 _He's coming._ Mike thought. _By the time he arrives here, Alex and Rosalie should be outside._ He thought to himself, more specifically, he prayed.

Only a moment later, there was new update on the live broadcast.

"Just in! Rosalie Persse was picked up by the police, unhurt!" The reporter said, the relief also evident in her eyes and in her tone. Only a few feet away, Mike heard her mother burst into tears.

"Thank you god!"

"Thank you Alex." Mike muttered to himself as he once again checked back to his Facebook feed for updates.

The celebration and relief was short lived. Soon after, the young mother had recovered, the two holdupers arrived in the vaults. From the looks on their faces, Mike was sure they had heard about their youngest hostage escaping.

"Where's the other kid?"

All the hostages stayed silent.

"I said, where is the other kid?"

His voice was more threatening and Mike leaned back in instinct as one of them went nearer to him. He wanted to answer him, say they were long gone. His body wouldn't obey him as if it was trying to save itself. Talking back at them would have been suicide.

The one with the black ski mask grabbed Rosalie's mother by the hair. "How did your fucking daughter get out?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

"I say we kill the liars first!"

The gun was already on the woman's back when Mike spoke up.

"She's not lying! She doesn't know! _I_ helped them out!" Mike said. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to drop Alex's name either.

Mike saw a bout of recognition in the eyes of the one in the green ski mask. "The blond kid escaped too" the latter said.

Mike went pale. The man's eyes widened, void of any human emotion and Mike was terrified. The man in the ski mask wanted to kill. He stared at Mike for a long time before training his gun back at the mother.

"We only need to kill one person for them to know were serious. Who will it be?" The man sang the last part.

Mike felt sick.

"You won't accomplish anything in here. If you want a flashy performance, you better execute the hostage outside for the whole of England to see."

Mike looked back to see Alex once again behind them. His shoulders dropped and it took substantial will power not to drop to his knees.

"Are you volunteering yourself?" One of the men asked.

Alex stayed silent. He looked away.

"We execute a young adolescent and it will send a louder message than any adult."

Alex backed away and inched closer to Mike and the latter caught the blond's gaze.

Alex did not look at all unsure at the turn of events. On the contrary, he looked calmer. His backing away of a while ago, suddenly looked like an act.

The man in the black ski mask, grabbed Alex by the arm. The latter resisted but was pushed ahead by the butt of the gun of the one behind him. Mike heard a sickening crack and Alex groaned in pain.

He wanted to follow the blond and the two robbers but they had locked vault behind them and Mike was once again powerless at the situation. His heart was thudding faster than a while ago. He turned on the live broadcast again. Everyone had huddled around him, watching the small screen of his phone.

Any minute, Alex would be forced through the double doors of the bank and they will be forced to watch the young boy executed.

He was sure he wouldn't be able to stomach it.

Could he look away though? Was it more respectful to see it through?

He found himself cursing whatever department or government issue had pushed them to this in the first place. Someone's life was on the line yet the government was still not giving in. Were they waiting for someone to die before they can find a way to safely force themselves in and save them?

Mike felt hot tears sting the sides of his eyes. He was crying for someone he had just met only an hour ago.

1 minute 2 minutes

The front doors never opened. Instead, they heard gunshots just outside the door.

 _They wouldn't kill Alex just outside._ Mike thought to himself.

The reporters had heard the gunshots as well.

"The footage from the bank security cameras are coming. The two robbers had been shot! The two robber had been shot! Security are testing the front entrance. They're going in!"

Mike lay back against the wall and sighed. He was safe. They were all safe. Alex was there when they were both shot. _Was Alex the one who shot them? Did they shoot each other?_

Is Alex okay?

He heard the vault door unlock.

"Are you all okay? Nobody injured?"

Everyone around Mike was crying tears of joy and relief. Mike found himself hurrying out the vault and out of the office. There was blood, but no sign of Alex or the two bank robbers. He hurried into the main hall where the customers had waited only a few hours ago.

One man leaned on the wall, unmoving but he was definitely still alive. One medic was working to give emergency treatment to him while a police man watched. Mike only had to look down at his clothes to know that he was the man with the green ski mask.

He was quick to avert his gaze and move on to other parts of the room. A huge pillar had obstructed Mike's view but as he hurried closer to where one part of the main hall narrowed into a hallway that leads to the elevators, he saw Alex sprawled on the floor, what looked to be a black box beside him.

Mike's blood ran cold when he realized that the black box was a bomb. The controls and the wires were stained red with what looked to be blood and Mike quickly turned his gaze back to Alex.

 _Why hadn't they noticed Alex here?_

When the police went in, they'd seen the two robbers already on the floor. They had known as well that the hostages were in the vault, that's why they had gone straight there. They knew everyone in the higher floors had escaped already. Of course, going to the elevators wouldn't be their top priority.

Alex looked close to death though and Mike almost considered utilizing his limited knowledge on first aid treatment at this moment. He turned Alex's body to him to see that his front was riddled with bullet wounds.

 _Dear god, was he even still alive?_

The tears of a while ago were once again stinging the sides of his eyes. Before he could even stop himself, he screamed.

"HELP!"

The next few hours were a blur. Someone had pulled him away from Alex's body and escorted him out of the bank and into an ambulance. Mike wanted to make sense of what else was happening. People had tried to talk to him, ask him for a name, what had happened. Anytime though his brain had to do anything more than take in his surroundings, it would make him recall Alex's lifeless body and when he sees the dead body, he shuts down again.

They had made him stay in the hospital for two nights. James and his parents were there the first night, his parents came to London to visit him Saturday afternoon. He was uninjured but his family understood, the professionals understood as well. He had just come out of a hostage situation. There were psychiatrists and pill subscriptions. Maybe it did help. Mike wasn't imagining Alex's dead body every waking second anymore, by Saturday night, he had started working on his article.

11am, Sunday morning, Mike had already changed to civilian clothing and was working on the final paragraph of his BIR article when James arrived.

"Mom and dad told me to accompany you home."

"I know how to take the tube to your house."

"They're worried about you."

"Of course they are. Recovering from something like that isn't exactly easy." Mike had noticed his voice was cold. What he was saying could have sounded sarcastic or even ill-intended. "Sorry."

"Let's just go." James said as he slung Mike's bag over his shoulder.

Mike did not even insist on carrying it.

Mike settled the insurance paperwork in the reception while James waited beside him. As the nurse quietly typed on her desktop, he thought of Alex. Lauren, Rosalie, Howard and Rosalie's mother who had introduced herself as Nora were all here. Some had left the hospital earlier that morning or had left yesterday afternoon.

If Alex had survived, he should be here or at the least, the body they had found should have made it there.

"Excuse me, was an Alex admitted here around the same time that I was?"

"What's his whole name?"

Only then did Mike realize the stupidity of what he asked. He didn't even know his last name, of course he wouldn't find him.

He gritted his teeth as he started to accept the truth. Alex's whereabouts will forever remain unknown, and that was something he'll have to grin and bear.

 **2-3 more chapters.**

 **Tell me what you think! and Happy Spyfest!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I already finished up a huge chunk of this story but as I said before, it isn't beta read. I was hoping someone could explain to me a bit about the British health care system. I did some research but I always end up in business websites, I'm hoping someone could give me first hand experience on how it works. Someone who reviewed mentioned that there are inconsistencies there, hoping to fix it soon.**

 **Sorry this took a while. I did finish chapter 5 and 6 as well but didn't have any means to post this since I had no laptop. I'm torn between finishing this up or finishing my other fic unforeseen circumstances this break. I also ended up starting another story from one of the spyfest prompts. Never finished it so I didn't want to post it but I'll probs post it as its own story when I finish both stories. Do tell me what you think I should be finishing first.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

Mike went back to work that Monday. For some reason or another, he was lauded with a hero's welcome.

"What the hell." Mike could only mutter as one office mate showed him a copy of the London Herald. "Who did you interview for this?"

 _Mike Howell was identified as the one who helped Rosalie Persse escape through air vents by mother , Nora Persse._

As Mike recalled the events of a few days ago, he realized, of course she wouldn't know. He thought back to the girl's grandfather, Howard Tanner. He was the only one who had gone deeper to the vaults with them and had seen Alex's heroism.

 _Why didn't he say anything about Alex?_

 _What about the way Alex had confronted the two hostage takers? Everyone had seen that. They for sure had seen him forced out of the vaults by the two. He had saved Nora from being the one executed at the least. No mention of him?_

"It says here you're the one who deactivated the bomb."

"You know I don't even know how to deactivate a bomb right? " Mike said as he grabbed the morning London Herald from his office mate.

Right there in black and white, _Mike Howell was found by the elevators along with the bomb the two hostage takers had threatened to detonate. Sources say he was the_ one who deactivated said bomb.

 _Sources?_ If Mike didn't feel sick that day, this was what was going to make him sick. Sources was a lazy word in his opinion. It was a pet peeve to see it in papers since he was a religious practicer of the good habit of citing sources. That was just the surface. What made it a million times worse was knowing that those "sources were all wrong. Mike did not know how to deactivate a bomb. As he once again recalled the bomb, he remembered Alex. He could vouch that Alex had deactivated the bomb before Mike had found his lifeless body beside it. He felt his chest tighten as he saw that scene again in his head. He was quick to recover.

"Gordon…" Mike started. His voice softer and slower than a while ago, a symptom of recalling just that scene. "There was another boy there. When they found me… I think _he_ deactivated the bomb."

"A boy? You must be kidding me. Sure young boys are into video games but no one would know how to deactivate a real bomb." He laughed as he slapped Mike on the back.

"What makes you think I would know how to deactivate a bomb."

"It's the PTSD, you probably forgot."

Mike couldn't even think of what sources Gordon could have been reading to make that conclusion but he just kept the newspaper, returned to his desk and turned on the desktop

 _Howard Tanner._

That old man had given his whole name. Mike could easily do a quick Facebook search.

It came out.

 **From Brighton, England**

 **Lives in London, England.**

What made it all the more obvious was his profile picture. A close up of his familiar face, beside him was his smiling granddaughter Rosalie Persse.

The last thing he was thinking about at that moment was respecting someone's privacy. Why the hell, didn't Howard speak up about Alex. Why didn't anyone talk about him in the first place?

Before composing his message, he had looked through the article once again. They had interviewed Nora, they had interviewed Howard. Lauren the bank teller had been interviewed as well. No mention was made of how exactly the final moments before their rescue went about. No one had mentioned the blond hero in a muddy soccer jersey as if they had all agreed that that kind of fourteen year old was just too unrealistic.

Mike remembered though.

 _Hey, you remember me from the incident a few days ago?_ _Hope you're doing okay but I wanted to ask about your interview with the London Herald._

He logged off quickly and went back to work, he could check it again lunch time. It was back to work.

Howard had replied faster than he expected and the two had agreed to meet for a light dinner just a few tubes away from both offices.

They found themselves in a small fish and chips bar in Sloane square that night. Mike was once again scanning through the article he had read that morning.

"You didn't mention Alex when they interviewed you about the incident." He was quick to the meat of the topic.

"You read the article.. ."

"Of course I did. "

"Believe me I spent a good amount of time talking about that young boy but in the end, I wasn't the one who wrote the article. Everyone I talked to after, save for the other ones who got trapped in the bank, acted like the boy was never there."

"So you wouldn't know if he made it out alive?"

"Like I said, it's as if he never existed."

Mike rested his face on his hands and sighed, holding back tears of what felt like confusion, frustration and anger, balled into one.

"The media ignored everything all of us have said about the young boy. Most of us have tried to ask the medics who worked there about the boy. No one knew. If it wasn't for my daughter I probably would have thought the boy was some hallucination."

"He's not. You remember him, I remember him. But for some reason, no one else acknowledged that he was actually there. Hell. Why does it say here that I was the one who saved your granddaughter!"

"I wanted to correct it actually. I emailed the newspaper about it and haven't gotten a reply yet. My daughter knew it was Alex. I had told her that night even before the newspaper called us in for an interview. "

"Then what happened to him?"The question could have been almost considered redundant. Howard did not even bother to hide his shared confusion. They were both lost. They could have even been lulled at that point.

 **Transparency**

It was past 10 pm when Mike arrived home in his parents house. The fruitlessness of his own investigation was already getting in his nerves. He was desperate for any sign of progress, His body started to look for it in the small things. As he arrived in the house, he was opening doors way too wide, taking the stares two at a time. These actions were almost involuntary. All Mike knew was that he had gone straight into the bedroom and opened his laptop.

James was on the bed beside his. "You're not even gonna change?"

"There's just something I need to check out."

 _He's a teenager, of course he'd have Facebook_. Mike had thought to himself. He had no last name to search. Alex was a glaringly common name for boys and girls.

He started by searching all news outlets that had released stories about that incident. His name had popped up once or twice. Lauren Oakland. Nora Persse. Howard Tanner. Same names, no mention of an Alex.

 _Common last names in England._

Could Mike actually look through all these names on facebook? Was he that desperate?

Alex was wearing a Chelsea football jersey when he had first seen him. He was a football player. He could be from Chelsea. He did a few searches on the football clubs high schools around London, a little more focused on those in Chelsea.

There were other Alexes but not the one he had met in the bank a few days ago.

That Alex wasn't a regular in any football club.

It was 12am when he was starting to give up. He stared at his Facebook screen. All he needed was a last name. If he didn't have a last name, Facebook was useless.

It didn't stop him though Alex. He clicked enter and watched as Facebook loaded the list of Alex's he probably knew.

High school friends.

University friends.

He had friended them a long time ago. The one he was looking for wasn't a friend on Facebook. He scrolled down to see a familiar picture of a boy in ski gear with an older man beside him that looked to be his father. He looked much younger in that photo but Mike recognized those serious brown eyes well enough.

 _Alex Rider._

Mutual friend with James Hale.

"No way." Mike muttered. His hands were trembling as he clicked on the name.

He scrolled down through the photos on his timeline. If James Hale was tagged on the photo, he had access to it as well. There were pictures from a school trip, from a football game .

James Hale was with Tom Harris and Alex Rider.

There was a picture of three of them, muddy after a football game. Same serious eyes, same blond hair, hell it was the same Chelsea football jersey.

This couldn't wait until morning.

"What do you want." James had said irritably as he pushed himself out of bed.

"You know this boy?" Mike asked as he practically shoved the laptop in front of his cousin.

"Why are you on my friends Facebook profile?" He asked, after a few seconds of buffer time.

"You know him…" Mike asked again, his eye widened along with his smile. "James, I wanna talk to him."

"You should've joined our football game last Friday then, he was there."

It took a minute or so to register.

 _Last Friday was the game. Last Friday was also the incident._

He remembered Alex in his muddy football jersey. He put two and two together.

 _So Alex had come from that football match_

"He suddenly disappeared halfway through the game but for sure you could have caught him earlier. "Why do you wanna talk to him anyway? I don't think you'd be interested in anything about Alex. He's s normal kid, mediocre grades."

 _"_ Mediocre grades huh..." Mike repeated. In reality, mediocre grades were not his immediate concern. He had instinctively repeated those two words while looking through Alex's timeline or at the least, what he could see from a mutual friend account. The account hadn't been memorialized. Mike felt a glimmer of hope. "Oh, I'm very interested in Alex." He closed his laptop. "He's in school?"

"Not today."

"Did they saw why?"

"He's sickly so he's always absent. Apparently he's in the hospital now with a severe case of meningitis and ulcers so he won't be in school for a while."

Mike did not know whether to question the "severe case of meningitis and ulcers." As his voice started to crack though, he knew he needed to give himself time to process this. He looked away and fell back on his bed. "Let's continue this tomorrow morning."

 _Alex was okay. Alex was alive._

Mike pressed his face on the pillow as he felt the tears well up in his eyes.

 _Was it normal to be crying about something like that?_

 ** _Tell me what you think!_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this late, I had this written out for a while, i just couldnt bring myself to post it until i gained the enthusiasm to write more. School is sucking the life out of me. Someone reviewed and I ended up revisiting. i genuinely enjoyed the revision process and remembered why i enjoyed writing in the first place. thank you anon. i was planning on finishing this anyway when break starts. its mid terms week, tournament season and I'm posting fanfiction. Help.**

"I want you to tell me about Alex." Mike brought up over breakfast. James parents had left for work early that day and it was just the two of them over breakfast, a good opportunity for Mike to press his cousin.

"You've been bugging me about him since last night. He's a normal student, a little sickly. I play football with him a lot." James enumerated nonchalantly. "What else do you want to know?"

"Sickly?" The boy Mike had met was not sickly at all. Alex had also said so himself, he wasn't an ordinary 14 year old. He must be hiding something.

"Yeah, always absent from school. We thought he got better since he was able to make it through class the whole spring but apparently he's in the hospital again."

"Which hospital?"

"St. Dominic's."

Mike raised one eyebrow. "The one for the rich and famous?"

James shrugged. "His uncle was some rich banker before he died. You didn't tell me though why you're so interested in him."

Mike found himself hesitating to say the real reason he was interested in Alex. If Alex really was hiding something, it shouldn't be coming from him. "Nothing really, I thought I saw him around. We talked a bit. He told me he was your friend and I realized I wanted to get to know your friends more."

James raised one eyebrow, looking suspicious at his cousin's explanation. "Is it really just that?"

Mike found himself cracking. "Look. It's not but--"

"Alex's pretty quiet about a lot of things. The only reason I know these is because I'm good friends with him and Tom but more often than not, he keeps to himself."

And he keeps to himself for a reason. Mike concluded as he recalled Alex back in the vaults. He imagined that his cousin wouldn't know of that side of Alex.

"I don't know exactly why you want to meet Alex but it must be important so I'll help you out."

"Really?" Mike's jaw dropped at his generosity

"Two conditions." James held up two fingers in emphasis. "You finish my coursework for social science."

Mike was quick to agree to that. "And the second?"

"You better not be crying again tonight." James sneered.

 **Transparency**

Mike left work early that day, told his boss he'd go to the hospital. They assumed it was a check up and they were understanding about it. Less than a week ago, he was on the brink of death.

He went straight to Brookland to pick his cousin James up. Beside him was Tom Harris. He recognized him from the picture of the three boys on Facebook.

"Mike Howell. Nice to meet you." Mike brought his hand out for Tom to shake. The latter seemed wary about Mike but still he took his hand.

"James told me you were interested in Alex? " Tom asked. He didn't seem unsure about the question. Of course, he wouldn't be unsure about something so straightforward.

Mike started to wonder why Tom seemed so suspicious of him as they took the tube to the nearest station to St. Dominic's. The two boys were talking in soft whispers and Mike couldn't help but feel the age gap between him and the two boys. He ended up thinking back to Alex. Alex was the same age as them. They were Alex's close friends but he couldn't help but contrast Alex's serious brown eyes with theirs. Alex could have been much older than them with the way he carried himself and the way he spoke.

As they exited the station, Mike followed behind the two boys.

"Give me a second, I just have to buy something" Tom said. James followed behind his friend while Mike waited outside and watched the two boys head towards the milkshake bar.

They emerged a few minutes later, a drink and a straw in Tom's right hand.

"You didn't buy yourself anything?" Mike asked, mostly in good nature, to placate Tom's suspicion even a little.

"This is for Alex. He can't eat any solids yet and he's tired of hospital food." Tom answered. He sighed. "I'll tell you now but I'm not sure if you'll be allowed inside. Alex hasn't even moved to a normal hospital room yet and his guardian had to pull some strings just so I could see him for 10 minutes."

"I'm just accompanying my cousin then. I don't have to see Alex." Mike said putting his hands up defensively. He wondered if he was able to probably mask the disappointment in his face.

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. "Let's go." He walked ahead.

"Sorry about how Tom's been treating you. He's been worried about him since we found out he'd been rushed to the hospital. They're best friends and he's in really bad shape apparently."

 _Oh I know that._ Mike thought to himself. For some reason, the scene etched in his mind of Alex's lifeless body was more stomacheable then than it was a few days ago. Knowing Alex survived that changed a lot.

"Tom has been visiting Alex since they started allowing visitors."

As they entered the hospital Tom's pace remained constant , as if this was a routine job while Mike and James, trailed behind. Their individual paces had both slowed as they entered the St. Dominic's. They both needed a few minutes to compose themselves as they entered that unfamiliar and somewhat ominous building.

"Intensive care is on the second floor." Tom said as he pointed towards the stairs. He took the stairs two at a time while Mike found himself keeping his slow pace, giving himself type to get his bearings. Was there really no other way to see Alex? Could he just see him? If he does talk to Alex what does he say?

 _I'm glad you're okay._ _What happened to you?_

Were those the type of things someone who only met him for a few hours had the right to say?

 _I'm just visiting with my cousin._

A pathetic lie Tom and James would also be able to call out.

"Mike! Let's go!"

It was only then did Mike realized that he had slowed to a stop. "Sorry." He said as he quickened his pace.

The intensive care unit in St. Dominic was like any normal room in the hospital. Patients there were still entitled to the privacy they'd have in a normal room. The only difference in that floor being the number of nurses assigned to one patient.

He saw Tom talking to a woman with red hair on the chairs by the nurses desk. As the red head looked up she gave Mike the same suspicious look that Tom had given him.

 _What did he tell her?_ _Who is she?_

He didn't have to wait long to find out. The woman came up to both of them, greeting James. Mike recognized that voice as the one who had called Alex back when they were in the hospital.

She was the guardian Tom talked about.

"I'll take you to Alex now. They allowed visitors for 30 minutes. Glad you could come, he's been dying to eat anything that isn't mashed bananas, ensure or jelly."

"He was literally dying just a few days ago so dying for a milkshake is an improvement." Tom said.

There was a glass window just beside the door but the curtains were closed to give the young boy inside privacy. James and Tom entered the hospital room. Mike followed them hesitantly before he felt someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Tom told me you're a journalist."

Mike spun around to face Jack. "Yes I am."

"I don't know what you found out but they already put an embargo on anything related to Alex in the bank shooting. Even if you get a story out of this, no one will publish it, don't waste your time."

She knew about it.

"I don't want the scoop on Alex." Mike said. It was only then did he realize how much money he could have made publishing a story on this. The last thing he had talked about as he searched for information was money.

"Look, you're not the only journalist who did research on Alex for the cash. I don't know how you found out what you did but we're not interested. If you try to chase him anymore, I'll make sure they come after you."

"Were you not listening? I don't know what "they" you are referring to but I'm not publishing anything on Alex for money." Mike said. The tone of the red head has been cold and intimidating and he found himself emulating it out of irritation. "I was with him in the bank. He saved our lives then he just disappeared. We were worried."

She frowned, looking almost unsure of herself. "Well you got your answer, Alex is alive."

"Can I talk to him first? I wanted to thank him personally. I wanted to talk about what happened. With how the media is handling this, he's not getting the thank you he deserves."

"He doesn't need a thank you. It's what he does…" Jack looked down as she said that last part, as if she couldn't even accept what she had just said. "Listen, I'll ask Alex about you. Mike Howell right? He'll talk to you if he wants to and if he's up for it. Right now just isn't a good time. He's still sleeping a good chunk of the day and he's going to have to do a lot of catching up while here."

"It's no problem for me. I'm not here on any money making business anyway. I really just want to talk to him."

Jack signaled him to wait as she entered the hospital room.

Through the slit as she opened the door. He made out the shape on the bed and the blond on the bed. There were tubes and wires all over the young teen and he looked much smaller. Mike could feel the tears coming out.

 _No_. He looked away and took a deep breath. After what he had seen Alex as, he preferred Alex that way. The important thing was he survived.

Mike sat outside the hospital room, twiddling his thumbs. He heard Tom's voice, he heard his cousin's but he couldn't make out Alex's voice at all. He occupied himself by picking off the dirt on his fingernails, dropping the dirt on the white sterile floors of the hospital, his thoughts flew to the people on this floor. His only memories of the ICU were of his great grandmother before she passed away and his great uncle who was rushed to the hospital after a stroke. He never expected he'd end up sitting outside the room of a fourteen year old boy. Kids Alex's age get hospitalized for appendicitis or tonsillitis. They don't get confined in the ICU for multiple bullet wounds.

He looked up instinctively when he heard the door softly open. It was Jack again, she shook her head as she looked at him apologetically. "I'm gonna have to ask you to give Alex a few weeks to get himself together. He wouldn't be up to meeting mingling with the way he is now "

Mike thought back to what he saw through the slit. Of course he wouldn't be feeling up to it. "No need for that, the important thing is he's fine.

Jack settled on the seat beside him. As she got closer, Mike couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes and her pale complexion.

"I"m glad Tom and James are there. I hate to leave Alex alone but at the same time I need to rest. I didn't sleep at all that night." She said as if she understood what he was looking at. "When I found out Alex had been shot, I…. He was supposed to text me.

"I know. When he answered the phone, I was with him."

"He was already in the bank…Jesus Christ… I couldn't help but think… I should have known he would check the bank out as soon as he heard about it. I checked on him to make sure he was safe since the bank robbery was so near his game. I should have checked to make sure he wouldn't meddle in something like that."

"He saved lives. He's a hero."

"Yes. But that's not his job. Now he can't eat. He can't breath. He wanted to be a normal school kid. He wanted to go to school, play football. He paid the price for all those lives he saved. If that's being a hero, fucking hell…"

Mike didn't know what to say. He knew he should have been offended for himself and for Rosalie, definitely for Rosalie who would have been killed if someone small and ingenious enough wasn't there to guide her through the vents. As he saw the tears well up again, he felt pity more than offended

"I'm sorry." She said. Eventually she did put two and two together but for some reason Mike felt more obligated to apologize.

"I'm sorry it came to all this.." He had tried to organize his thoughts and pick out the right words. He prided himself in his straight to the point writing style. At that point he felt almost embarrassed for not finding the right words, for saying something he would have deemed as low quality writing.

"I'm sorry… Being his guardian, when he's like this… it's a lot to handle. He's in a lot of pain and the doctor says the pain may never go away. There were a total of nine bullets inside him. The doctor was able to tell from the bullet wounds that they weren't fired all at once. He was shot a few times in the stomach first. They could tell from the state of the wounds in his stomach that he managed to resist and run away before they shot him again and again a few times to the chest, his collar… it's a miracle he's still alive honestly. They had to temporarily reroute his digestive system, give him ECMO while they deal with all the internal damage step by step. They said he wouldn't make it through a long surgery just yet."

As she further talked about his wounds, Mike thought back to that last time he saw Alex before the police pulled him away from his body.

He managed to resist and run away from the gunmen before they shot him again and again

He didn't have to think far to remember the details of that scene. Alex, pale, almost dead. His bloodied hands were on a black box. Bullets are hard to come by. Most terrorists wouldn't shoot more than three bullets at one person. If it were Rosalie, they probably would have only needed 2 bullets at the most to silence her. To shoot multiple rounds at one kid most probably meant they were provoked.

"It wasn't self preservation. Alex didn't run away. " Mike said as he traced the scene in his mind again, from Alex's bloodied hands to the black box under them.

"How--"

Mike's brain was on overdrive. He had heard the bullets ring through the bank. He remembered it clearly. The bullets sounded in intervals. Hearing that story from Jack felt like finding a missing puzzle piece as he was putting the puzzle together. They shot. Alex ran, already injured. He wasn't running away. He was finding a way to fight back. He managed to get a gun. He shot back. They shot back at him. All leading up to that moment when he had found Alex sprawled in front of the black box, the time bomb deactivated.

Until that last moment while bleeding to death from multiple bullet wounds, that young boy was thinking about everyone in the bank

"Alex didn't think he was gonna make it either way so he used the last of his strength to make sure the only ones who came with him were the two gunmen."

 **Tell me what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Surprise Surprise. Nothing due tomorrow so guess who had the time to write. 3. I wanted to write more of unforeseen circumstances but yep, this was calling out to me more.**

It may have been a sense of justice that spurred Mike on, maybe a desire to know the truth. Maybe a combination of both.

What for sure played a part was that painful pit in his stomach when he thought of Alex back in the hospital. Alex was a hero. He didn't have do what he did but he did it. He paid the price but couldn't even enjoy the returns of his investment. Mike felt indebted to Alex. That feeling had manifested itself as a knot that would only tighten with every new piece of information he got about the young blond.

 _If I could hear good information for a change…_ He thought to himself as he mentally traced the knot in his stomach to its source.

James was updating him on the young blond over coffee in the hospital cafeteria. Every piece felt like it was only tightening that knot inside him while at the same time digging into the pit of his stomach like a glass shrapnel.

'Alex couldn't even eat. They had to stick a tube up his nose to make sure he doesn't starve." James' worry and disbelief at Alex's state was apparent in his tone and face.

"It doesn't look like he'll be getting out of the hospital soon." Mike commented, silently hoping for a negation from his cousin. James rarely agreed with him always trying his best to counter Mike's points even in topics he wasn't familiar with. He was almost hoping James would counter his pessimism with some optimism about Alex's situation.

To his dismay though, James had nodded in agreement "Tom said he'll be in the hospital for two months at the least then months of therapy after."

"Does he have to stay here that long. What can the hospital do that he can't do alone? " Mike asked as he played with the stirrer of his coffee.

 _Everything…_

His mind answered as he thought back once again to the glimpse of Alex he managed through the slit on the hospital door. Hypothetically, how many of those tubes could he remove without killing Alex?

"Jack says he needs the painkillers they've been pumping him with. He'll be going back to surgery a few more times too. I didn't even know stomach ulcers could get this bad _."_

At the word ulcer, Mike needed a downtime of 2 seconds to register. James didn't know that Alex had been shot multiple times all over his chest and stomach cavity. To him, Alex just had a severe case of ulcers and meningitis. He had to remind himself of that.

"The thing is he was playing really well in our football match. No one expected he'd get rushed to the hospital for ulcers that same night"

 _Because it wasn't ulcers._

It made him sick. The last time James saw Alex up and healthy was the game last Friday. Alex had scored one goal for the team and looked capable of scoring another according to James.

Halfway through the timeout, he had suddenly disappeared. Tom was the one who told the team that he left for some family emergency

That family emergency was meddling in a hostage situation in a bank. A few hours after his football match, he was left struggling to breathe and eat, a far cry from the boy who scored a goal in a high school football match. That Alex confined to the hospital bed wouldn't be as capable of scoring a goal as the Alex James played with only a week ago. Heck, with physical therapy, it would probably be months before he can even dribble a soccer ball again. Funny how that accident was all that was needed to turn his life around.

The fact is, Alex had no business with the bank. He could have easily just turned a blind eye at whoever had made him suspicious enough to want to go to the bank. If he did, he probably would have spent that day in school or in football practice instead of in the hospital being stuffed with bananas, jelly and ensure while being hooked up to machines.

But then, Rosalie Persse probably would have died. Mike and the other hostages would have died as well. In a way, Alex was the sacrificial lamb, everyone else had escaped unhurt.

 _None of the hostages were hurt._

One of the articles he had looked through had said. With that kind of article, of course James wouldn't know that Alex was the only casualty in the incident. No one would, unless they were there, unless they had seen the hero Alex had been first hand.

 _None of the hostages were hurt._ He repeated in his head

They weren't wrong. Alex wasn't a hostage. Or at the least, he wasn't supposed to be a hostage, He could have just looked away as he saw the two men in the duffel bag head to the bank yet there he was, the one casualty of the whole ordeal, the one casualty was the one that saved all of them.

 _None of the original hostages were hurt._ He silently assessed the verifiability of that statement.

He didn't want their money but he knew he'd have trouble letting a misreport like this slide. Alex was a hero. He had done what he needed to do. He had paid the price and got nothing in return. He could even say it was a net loss in the end. He had eventually come up with the conclusion that the whole banking ordeal was a net loss for everyone involved anyway. It was traumatic for everyone even if they all came out of it unscathed. There was no doubt Alex came out of it with his own set of traumas as well. Unlike the others though, he did not come out of it unscathed.

The assessment was utilitarian. Mike had done the same ethical assessment many times before as he learned of the many ethical dilemmas over the years in class and on the news. He was not a completely cold blooded utilitarian though. What he had thought of was merely an assessment of the whole situation. In the end, it was his gut feel, that emotion that he could have articulated as anger, confusion and frustration all mixed into one unintelligible knot that had him balling his fists and hitting the table in front him, only to find out that all it did was scare his cousin. It did nothing to relax him.

 **Transparency**

It was 12am when he messaged Howard Tanner. He had tried to get a good night's sleep. As soon as he got sleepy enough, his brain flew back to Alex. It didn't help that he had his phone by his bedside. His journalist streak was kicking in and he found himself scrolling through Alex's Facebook Timeline or at least what was accessible to him in the dark.

 _Alex Rider is with James Hale._

 _Alex Rider is with Tom Harris and James Hale._

 _Alex Rider is with James Hale._

What else could he find there?

He saw a post tagged with Alex's name. He recognized the name of the one who posted as Jack. It was a movie poster from a few months back.

 **Alex rider.** _Game for friday night?_

His finger hovered over the mouse as he considered adding her as a friend on facebook. Was it inappropriate? She had opened up to him somehow and Mike took it as enough justification to shamelessly drop a friend request in her inbox. How could he even get better at investigating and reporting if he was second thinking adding someone on facebook because he was shy?

Mike looked at his messenger notifications to see a red bubble. Howard replied.

 _Dinner at five I have updates._ He quickly after glancing at Howard's short greeting.

A part of him wanted to break the news to him over facebook that Alex was alive, What kind of conversation could flow at midnight, over chat?

 _Alex was injured, bedridden and miserable._

 _The published articles about the incident were a mess._

 _Mike for some reason was heralded as the hero in all that._

 _The unsung true hero deserved more than being loaded with painkillers until his next surgery._

Mike didn't need any flowery words to illicit a reaction from Howard over a dinner of pork chops in a small diner next to a tube station. He had started with typical greetings.

"How was work?"

"Okay."

Alex wasn't okay.

"How's your daughter?"

"Managed to get back to her daily routine."

 _Routine_

Mike's thoughts naturally flew to Alex.

 _Every morning a nurse comes in to change Alex's bandages and adjust his medication so he's generally freer in the afternoon so we visit then. It's pretty much routine now._

"How's your granddaughter?"

"Good news, she managed to get back to school this week."

 _Alex will probably sit for his GCSEs over summer break. They'll figure it out when Alex is strong enough to actually sit up and open a text book. He definitely won't be back before the autumn term though._

"Alex is alive." As James' stories echoed in his head and as the knot only got tighter and tighter, Mike found himself just blurting it out. He needed to find a sense of justice in all of it. At that moment, he was desperately looking at it in the man in front of him. As impossible as it was, he wanted Howard to tell him there was a magical solution that could Alex walking by tomorrow morning.

Howard dropped his fork and stared at Mike, looking dumbfounded.

"He's real. He wasn't a figment of our imagination." Mike continued.

Howard buried his face in his hands and Mike could see that he was quick to wipe his tears. "My god, I thought I was crazy. Everyone has been going on and on about the news articles and the interviews. They all said you were the hero. I couldn't take it. I wanted that young boy to be real. But at the same time, if he was real and he was killed… I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt... How did you find out?"

"Coincidence really… A few quick facebook searches… turns out he's a family friend."

"Social media really is a blessing at times. How is he? If you could give me address, I'd love to send over a small token of appreciation or a compensation of some sorts. Or if he's not comfortable with it, I'll course it through-"

"A hospital room in St. Dominic's."

Howard's head drop. "Ah yeah, I should have expected that… When he gets discharged we could-"

"We'll have to wait months then because my cousin says he won't be out til the autumn term." Mike gestured out the window. It wasn't completely dark yet so Mike made his point well. The flowers were still blooming, the weather still wasn't too hot. Spring was just starting to end.

 _Alex was going to miss his whole summer break._

"I'll ask his family if they're willing to give you his contact details. Worse comes to worst, I'll take whatever token you have to him."

"Thank you. I'll make sure to tell my family about it tonight. It would be nice to meet him again."

"Yes it will."

Mike wondered if he would ever get the chance to talk to that young boy one on one. _How did he end up in the bank? How did he save Rosalie? How did he know how to deactivate the bomb? How did he muster up the courage to fight the terrorists? More importantly, why?_

Alex was on watch 24/7 though, either by Tom, Jack or a night nurse. It would be months before he's back to school. Would Tom or Jack leave him alone long enough for Mike to swoop in and just delve into Alex's thinking process? Would Alex even be open to answering these questions?

Mike had just said his goodbyes to Howard when he received a call from his aunt.

"I don't think James will be having dinner with us tonight. Make sure he eats okay? Take him out or something… even just around St. Dominic's"

"St. Dominic's?"

"You're with him right? He said he'd contact you about it. He left the house in a hurry just an hour ago. He said he might be there all night…"

"Wait. Why?"

James didn't like staying out too late if he had a lot of coursework to finish. This was a rare instance and Mike instantly new it was foreboding.

"Friend's not doing too well… James said it might be the last time he'd get to talk to him."

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **Tell me what you think and maybe that could gave me a glimpse of inspiration.**


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